Perpetual Motion
by New Secret Identity
Summary: He grinned madly at her retreating figure. Defiant as always. That was fine, he thought to himself, he wouldn’t have her any other way.
1. Chapter 1

Hello Readers!

I should warn you, that my Howl is a bit more wicked than Miyazaki's. His Howl was a heart throb, but a little too perfect to relate to completely, I feel. I hope you enjoy it. Please R & R. I live for your praise.

Ah yes, I don't pretend to own anything in this story. I'm very enlightened that way. I'm sure you're all very impressed by my maturity concerning this matter. Thanks to Diana Wynne Jones and Miyazaki for enabling this colossal waste of my young life. No, really.

It was eight o'clock in the morning. That was really _late_ for Sophie. But she imagined it couldn't be helped. Things had changed. She simply hadn't adjusted to them yet. Beside her on the floor the Witch of the Waste snored, whom Sophie had affectionately nick-named, "Dubbie"--after her initials. It had been only a week since Howl had regained his heart, a week since prince Justin had returned to himself. Although technically their would be a truce while the two governments discussed their terms of peace, the war still raged on in petty skirmishes along the boarder.

Sometimes, Howl had reasoned before he left, it takes a long time for changes at the head to be felt in the rest of the body. _Or changes in the heart, _she had added silently. Sophie feared that the Prince's peace would not hold, that the two countries would continue to fight, regardless of their accords, the friction of their continued encounters fueling more and more conflict before the thing spiraled out of control, becoming unstoppable, not unlike the Perpetual Motion machine that she had read about in one of Howl's less enigmatic books.

Sophie thought of the night she had first read of the endless motion device. The concept had frightened her. She had been sitting at the table across from Marcl, who was sorting out some tincture, when Howl had sauntered into the room. So rapt in the book had she been that she didn't notice him until she felt the heat of his body on her back as he leaned over her shoulder, his hair tickling her cheek.

As always when he was this close to her, she found that she couldn't breath. Still in her old woman's body, she had scolded herself at the time for entertaining the thoughts that danced across her mind every time he came close After all he was a young man, and she was…well, herself. Howl had long since learned to see past the Dubbie's enchantment of course, but Sophie was still blissfully unaware of this.

"What are you educating yourself about tonight, dear old Sophie?" Howl asked, his smooth voice teased as always, piquing her irritation with its content as its playful melodies soothed her, making her want to continue listening endlessly. If only she could tune out his meaning, but not his sound, she thought.

"Something truly terrifying," she responded, turning the page.

Howl scanned the text over her shoulder.

"Perpetual motion? What's so upsetting about that?" he asked, smiling, aware of the way she slouched away from him into the book as he leaned forward toward her. How he enjoyed teasing this little mouse, it was really a bit sinful, but he found that he couldn't and didn't want to help himself.

"Oh...well," Sophie cleared her throat, endeavoring to maintain a level tone with him so near her. "It's just that, I can't really imagine anything that needs doing that I want done constantly, and forever!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, not quite following her reasoning.

To his pleasure he watched her face slacken in wonderment at his incomprehension. She turned, facing him, driving him to release the table on either side of her and step back.

"What do you mean, _"What do you mean?" _Howl, how do you make it _stop?"_

She watched his nose crinkle and his eyes close in that insufferably cute way that meant she was about to be laughed at, which she subsequently was.

"Sophie, my dear, that's not the point is it? It's _supposed_ to be perpetual!"

"Yes, but…these examples…a grist-mill that keeps milling indefinitely, without outside power? What happens if you run out of wheat to make into flour? It will begin wearing the very stone away, never stopping. What a mess!"

"Leave it to you to think only in terms of "mess." But I see your point. However, I don't think "perpetual" means that you can't turn it off," he told her, although honestly he'd never thought that deeply about it himself. "Even if that were the case, however, think of other things that you might like to keep going, like a watch that never needs to be wound, or a light house that turns constantly?"

"Well, yes," Sophie flushed, apparently she had misunderstood, as she so often did. Apparently "perpetual" in this case did not mean "perpetual" exactly, but only in certain select senses. "But I still think it's a dangerous idea," she rallied.

"But it could revolutionize everything! Don't be so pessimistic!" Howl continued, ignoring the tone in her voice that said "leave well enough alone." "Subway cars that don't need fuel, trains that don't need coal! Fires that don't need…"

Calcifer took this as his cue to chime in.

"Aha! Sounds fine for you, Howl," he cried from the grating. "You wouldn't need me around that's for sure. _A fire that doesn't need to be fed!_ I don't ask for much you know!"

Calcifer huffed, inexplicably offended by Howl's enthusiasm for what was little more than the pipe dream of some machinist.

"It doesn't exist Calcifer, calm down," Howl sighed, leaving the table and Sophie to console the demon with a log.

"You've gone and hurt his feelings, now," Sophie scolded him, but not unkindly, and then she muttered, as if to herself. "Endless, forever, and at no cost! Such a thing is against nature. Mankind can be so greedy."

"Humankind," Howl had corrected her as he stoked Calcifer's embers. "_Humankind, _you mean, dear Sophie."

The sound of an especially robust snuffle from the old woman brought Sophie out of her thoughts and back to reality. Sophie noted that she seemed to be more and more preoccupied lately. But in her defense there wasn't much to do up here besides be preoccupied with one's thoughts.

Marcl, Dubbie, Calcifer and Sophie had been residing in Howl's cottage up in the mountains for the past three days. She had not seen hide nor hair, nor feather for that matter, of Howl since he had left two days after regaining his heart. How Sophie had hounded him not to go, to stay and rest. But he would have none of it, claiming that he had business to attend to, and pointing out that what little food they had would not last forever.

She had quipped that business had never stopped him from slacking off before then, so why should he start living straight now? To this he had only replied meaningfully that he now had certain "obligations" that weighed upon him.

And so she had watched him part, in winged form, as they had no magic door to rely on for quick transport any more. She could still remember the leathery sound of his black wings stretching, the susurration of feather against feather swishing in the frigid air of morning as he leapt into the sky, the Wizard Solomon's little dog Heen tucked away in a leather satchel suspended from his neck. She and Marcl had watched his figure fade into the pale pink light of morning before he passed out of sight behind the mountains to the East.

"Marcl," she had asked finally, the question that had been weighing upon her subconscious mind for weeks now took form. "Is Howl a man, I mean a _human_?" She had looked down at the young boy, whom she considered to be her own little brother.

"Yes, of course he is Sophie!" he had replied, his face screwed up in a look that seemed to suggest that she was mad to ask in the first place. "Especially now," he added.

"Why now?" Sophie asked.

"He has his heart back," he replied. "It's what ties him to his human form."

"And the bird…form, what is that?"

"Well," Marcl explained, obviously enjoying instructing his elder. "Each wizard has an element, like air. That's Howl's, you see. That's why he can take that shape. Howl says that magic, is kind of like….borrowing."

"Borrowing?" she asked as she took his hand and led him back into the house.

"Yeah, people don't really have power, they need to get it from somewhere."

Sophie stopped dead in her tracks.

"Oh no!" Sophie wailed. "This doesn't mean that there's another demon that I don't know about, does it?" Sophie wondered frantically what other organs Howl might have leant out…his liver? A kidney? Or perhaps his brain? This might explain some things….

Marcl had just laughed, in an infuriatingly Howl-like manner, at her ignorance.

"No, you got it all wrong. The element chooses you, and you get to use its power if you know how to. Howl knows how to use his really, really well."

"Do you have an element, Marcl?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "But I don't know quite what it is yet," he replied. "It's probably wind, most men use wind."

"Oh," Sophie didn't know what to say to any of this.

"It was dangerous to use his power before Howl was whole again," Marcl continued as he helped her clean up the table after their early breakfast. "The wind part can take over a person, if he's not all there and he uses it too much. Changing completely into an agent of wind means you become really powerful, but at a cost."

"A cost?" she said as she scraped the crumbs off Howl's plate into the rubbish bin.

"Yeah, you can't turn back," Marcl replied, darkly.

"Then that bird…"

"If you hadn't saved him, Sophie. He would have been that way forever," Marcl said, answering her unspoken question. Sophie was stunned for an instant, the gravity of this statement sinking in, before anger took over.

"That idiot! I'll never forgive him!" she raged, slamming the dishes into the sink as she began to pump the tap furiously, bringing water up from the well and into the sink. She had known that Howl had been in mortal peril, but she had not really understood its implications.

"Don't be angry Sophie!" Marcl implored, alarmed by her response. "He was only trying to protect us!"

"And a damn good thing I stopped him!" she fumed. The arrogance, the stupidity! She resolved then and there to give him a piece of her mind when he got back.

Over the next three days, Sophie had tried her best to hold on to that fury, but now she found that her heart was filled only with loneliness, and a sense of expectancy and dread for what things would be like when he returned.

Sophie suspected that she loved him terribly. But now that he was his own man and had his heart again, now what? She was no longer a wizened old woman either, their living arrangements weren't exactly "proper" by the standards of Market Chipping. No more passing as "Granny." Would she have to leave them all? Would Howl want her to? Or could they keep on going as they had before? She--harmless and sexless, and he, well…wonderful and perfect and completely untouchable, but safe now, and the same as always.

There was a part of her that was bold enough to offer up the possibility that she wouldn't be satisfied with things staying the same, a part which she quickly squashed. Between the options of her leaving and things staying the same between Howl and she, these being the only two options Sophie was prepared to imagine, she much preferred to stay with him. Even if he never returned her feelings, and she pined away, slowly becoming the old wretched woman she had so recently been. Just to be near him, that was all she really wanted, or so she tried to tell herself.

Sophie grumbled, rising from the mattress on the floor and rubbing her back. Old she may no longer be, but the cold of the valley seemed to leach into her bones in the morning, making her body ache. She smiled at Calcifer, who was still slumbering in his bed of coals. She picked up a log from beside the fire place and put it close to him, within reach should he wake up soon.

The tiny cottage had already been scoured clean. After the excitement of the last battle, there simply hadn't been much for the four of them to entertain themselves with while they waited for Howl's return.

Marcl had dived into the old books that Howl had kept at the cottage, Sophie had tried to entertain herself with them as well, but in the end grew exasperated with the often cryptic prose and meaningless enigmatic symbols that occupied their passages. Dubbie was content to watch the world from her seat in front of the window. Calcifer had been himself strangely pensive and often too sleepy to chat with Sophie as he usually did. She wondered if he might be sick after having been separated from Howl's heart.

She didn't know herself how to diagnose a demon, and there was nothing she could really do.

_Nothing, _her inner thoughts hissed at her as she looked around at the spotless abode.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. There was nothing! If there was one thing that she missed about Howl's company it was the endless supply of _something_ to fix up every time he lifted a finger. The man was a walking disaster! Without him, in this lonely bowl of green glory in a mountain pass far away from any sort of civilization, Sophie was simply going mad from not-enough-to-do!

Energized by a sudden burst of disgust at the overwhelming _tidiness_ of everything around her, Sophie grabbed her boots and her old shawl from the closet and resolved to burn off some of her restless energy outside exploring the valley. She grabbed her hat from its hook by the door and rammed it on her head. Sophie was well aware that she was far from decently dressed in her nightgown, but knowing that there was no one here to see her anyhow, she figured it hardly made a difference.

She flew through the door, leaving it banging on its hinges in an uncharacteristic fit of contempt as she ran off to the hill at the right of the house, hitching up the long hem of her nightgown as she gathered speed. As she crested the hill, the wind made as if to defy her advance, buffeting her as she ran doggedly onward, her chest heaving with the effort of it.

Although her brain was still restless her heart sang at the simple act of exertion, it had been too long since she had been free and hail enough to simply run in the wind like a child. An extra strong gust robbed her of her hat and sent it flying up into the air, she swore at it, but she didn't care enough to chase after and instead continued to run, her shawl falling from her shoulders, and then to her waist before finally falling to the ground as she continued her pace unabated.

Sophie did not stop until she stumbled, her toe having been caught by a rock hidden in the grass that hugged the earth of the valley like a veil. She cursed at it, and then at herself as she slumped to the ground, massaging her ankle. How unlike her! To go running off like a chicken with its head off! She was going stir crazy. It must be all this fresh air, she chided herself as she leaned back into the soft grass of the mountain tundra. She gazed up into the sky--clear, featureless and blue, and cursed it, because the color had reminded her of his eyes.

"Stop thinking about him," she mumbled to herself, sullenly. "And stop being such a child. What's wrong with you, Sophie Hatter?" She closed her eyes, listening to the gentle rustle of the grass all around her.

"Nothing that can't be fixed, I hope," a soft, low voice intoned as a shadow fell across the light seeping through her lids.

Shocked, Sophie's eyes snapped open, focusing on the upside-down smirk of one Howl Jenkin's as he leaned over her recumbent body, his eyes flashing mischievously, his face wreathed in shining black hair.

"Here I brought back your…" he began but was cut off when Sophie cried out.

"_You! _You horrible man! Turn around this instant!" Sophie yelled, covering her chest and sitting up quickly. How dare he sneak up on her when she was in nothing but her nightdress!

Howl grinned, so this was how she was going to be.

"It's just your nightgown, Sophie."

"Yes, and I'll thank you not sneak up on me like that while I'm wearing it!"

"I've seen you a dozen times in your nightdress, it never bothered you before," he countered as he turned away from her.

"Yes, well, I wasn't a young woman then now was I?"

He stopped himself short before replying that, in fact, she had been, at least to his eyes. Howl also refrained from mentioning that he had been admiring her from above as she ran through the fields of bright flowers, and in fact, it was he who had caused the wind to sweep her hat from her head, just so he could watch her run after it. Of course in her stubborn way she had unwittingly refused to entertain him, and instead had kept running onwards, so absorbed in the action that she had not noticed him circling far above her.

"Don't worry," he teased her. "That nightgown leaves much to the imagination, I'm fairly certain a parka would be more revealing…"

"Well, whatever Howl, it's the principle of the thing! It's called _decency, _I should like you to know!"

"I brought you your hat," he said placatingly, as he stared out in the direction of the house, his back turned politely towards her. He proffered it behind him, feeling the straw material brush up against her head. Sophie snatched it from him, and rammed it onto her head once again, her cheeks hot with humiliation, had he really heard her mumbling to herself? All of it? It was so embarrassing she could die! And he was the type so self-absorbed to think that she had been muttering about him, which of course she had been. But he had no right to assume such things! _Gods he was vain!_

"I don't suppose you brought my shawl as well?" she asked crossly.

"No, still in the grass back there I'm afraid."

"Would you be a gentlemen and offer me your coat then?" she demanded.

"But of course, fair Lady!" he laughed. "Please forgive my rudeness, I was overcome…"

He doffed his coat and offered it to her, still facing pointedly away, and listened to rustle of the grass as she stood and put it on.

"Fair Lady, indeed," she muttered as she donned the heavy coat, realizing that she had never fully comprehended before how fine or thick it was until now that it was on her. She was aware of the smell it gave off, his smell, the smell of smoke and flowers, wood fire and hyacinths. It was enough to make her weak in the knees just being surrounded by it. She caught herself admiring the gold braid, it must have cost him a fortune!

"Alright then," she said finally.

He turned. _Fair Lady, indeed..._ He thought to himself as he looked at her. He had thought her beautiful as he watched her from above, racing across the valley as if possessed, her nightgown hitched up to her thighs as she ran. At this moment, however, he decided that she was positively, revoltingly cute. Her ubiquitous straw hat was on at an angle, her cropped silver hair was untied for once, unleashed upon her shoulders, flowing in ravishing snarled waves from her head and spilling across the wide shoulders of his jacket, which dwarfed her own shoulders in comparison.

Sophie had wrapped the two sides of his jacket around herself protectively, and was holding them shut, one sleeve bunched up, threatening to engulf the hand that held them. Her other arm was at her side, the hand concealed somewhere in the voluminous sleeve. She looked so cross and adorable that he could have just…his thoughts trailed away and he smiled at her, tucking the images that sprang to mind into the back of his thoughts, telling himself that there was plenty of time to go there, but later, not now.

He bowed to her, extending his hand, palm upwards. He was mocking her! She could have screamed!

"Your hand, my Lady."

"Yes I suppose it _is_ my hand," she huffed at him, turning up her nose as she stomped past, trying desperately not to trip over her night gown.

He grinned madly at her retreating figure. Defiant as always. That was fine, he thought to himself, he wouldn't have her any other way.


	2. Chapter 2

Sophie was rather pleased with herself. It had been easier to be cross with Howl than she had hoped. It helped that he appeared to be completely fit, despite his recent brush with death, or inhumanness, or whatever it was that had almost happened to him. Truthfully, she still didn't exactly understand, despite Marcl's brief explanation. Sophie had feared that she would become hopelessly soppy when he got back.

That he would look at her with his clear, bright eyes and she would just melt into nothing, morph into some pathetic doe-eyed creature like every other woman that ever looked at him. This, she was pleased to say, had not been the case today, although she could not vouch for tomorrow, or the day that would come after that. She would have to rely on Howl's innate talent to really get under her skin to keep her afloat.

Marcl was upset. This wasn't how his own inner narrative of the "Return of Howl" had played out in his mind. He had expected a lot of fawning and soppiness between the two, and then he fully expected them to settle down and then get to the "happily ever after" bit, which is what happened whenever two people fell in love in story books.

Of course this wasn't exactly a story book, but being ten and parentless, story books were the only research materials available to him. As it was, he was a bit vague on the details as to what "ever after" entailed, but he suspected it didn't involve one of the characters being exceptionally cross with the other, while the other one deliberately spent his time seeking to irritate the angry one into being even more upset than before. Adults! They made no sense, even less than the charm Howl had set him to work on as soon as he returned.

It was afternoon, and Howl interrupted Marcl's study, asking him if he would "help him unpack." Marcl nodded eagerly, he had been secretly wondering where Howl was hiding the loot, perhaps he had stowed it on the other side of the valley? Surely he hadn't come back empty handed, anyway.

Howl and his young apprentice stomped out over the grassy hillside to the West of the cottage, finally they crested a small hill and descended into the dip beyond where the shattered remains of the airship rested.

"Well?" Marcl whispered excitedly. Casting about for any signs of whatever Howl had returned with. "Where's the loot? Is it in the ship? Did you hide it with an invisibility spell? Show me!"

"Loot? Marcl," Howl chuckled. "You make me sound like a pirate or something."

"Well, where is it!" Marcl cried. He began to hop up and down, his excitement nearly overwhelming him. This was going to be terrific, he could tell.

Howl smiled and raised a finger to his lips, his hands then found a leather cord that had been lying around his neck. Markl had not noticed it before. Howl produced from underneath his shirt a small brown leather bag.

"Is that what I think it is!" Marcl enthused.

Howl nodded his head and made sure that Marcl was standing well behind him. He undid the cord that bond the bag together and tossed it well away from them. At first nothing was heard but a small hiss issuing from the bag, and then there was a loud pop, and a bang like a cork shooting from a champagne bottle.

Marcl winced at the sudden loud noise and then opened his eyes to behold the previously empty space between them and the ruin of the airship filled with all manner of items. There were bits of wood, planks, bricks, stones, parts of old machinery, books--things that Marcl recognized from their old castle. There were also many new things. There were boxes that appeared to be from a woman's clothier, there were bags of food, a crate of wine, a barrel of mead, and more bags and crates of other things whose contents could not be discerned simply by looking at them.

"Wow! Where did you get the compression bag, Howl! Those are really tricky to make."

"A house warming present from the Wizard Solomon."

"And what about all this new stuff? Is that a dress? Is it for Sophie?" Marcl cried, perhaps his friend and mentor wasn't so totally thick after all. "Is it from you or is it from Solomon as well?"

"Oh no," Howl replied, his tone darkening slightly. "Those are courtesy of another _very_ generous patron. Whom I'm sure we should probably all feel very grateful to, although I must admit I'm having trouble with that at the moment. Come let's start moving the perishable things up to the house."

Marcl obliged happily, glad to be out of the house and out in the sunshine with his teacher once again.

It was night time, they had all eaten exceptionally well. It was first time that they had steak in a long while. Calcifer had been thrilled, gobbling up the fat Sophie had trimmed from the already lean meat. She had made them all potatoes and steamed carrots as well. And they had polished it all off with a glass of the wonderful mead that Howl had brought with them.

Sophie had wondered to herself where on earth Howl had gotten the money for all of these things, but she had preferred for the time being not to ask, afraid as she was of how exactly he might answer. For although they had done well at the flower shop, they had lost most of their earnings down the Cliffside when the castle had come a part.

The witch had been tucked into bed, and Marcl was soon sent back to the room that he and Howl shared, protesting sleepily. Now Howl and Sophie were left alone watching Calcifer doze in the grate.

"Is he alright?" Sophie asked. "Calcifer, I mean. He's been really tired lately, he doesn't seem quite himself."

Howl smiled at her concern.

"Yes, he'll be fine," he sighed. "Calcifer will be alright, thanks to you."

He heard the intake of her breath as she went to ask him the same question, this time about his own health, and stopped her before she had the chance to start

"Sophie," he said as he stood. "There are some things I'd like to show you. They're waiting for you out on the porch."

Her curiosity piqued, Sophie got up to follow him. Howl grabbed the lantern from beside the door, lit it with his magic. She followed him into the starlit night and watched as he hung the lantern on a hook on the ceiling. There in the wavering lamplight, in a heap at the corner of the porch was a pile of boxes. They bore names like Ladysmith of Kinsbury, and Harlequin Hatters. She felt her heart skip a beat, what had Howl done now?

He watched her as she stepped toward the boxes and began to open the one on top. He listened to the rustle of the paper within and heard her small gasp as she brought out what was within it.

Sophie had hardly seen anything finer in her life, it was a gown, of the softest silk and a color so white that it glowed in the moonlight. She felt ashamed just to touch it with her dishpan hands. The bodice gleamed with a hundred tiny crystals, embroidered in a rich brocade that encircled the hem at the top of the gown.

It was so beautiful, why had Howl gotten it for her? What did it mean? She was about to turn around and yell at him for having spent so much money on her when they really had none when she felt him behind her. She swallowed hard, trying to beat back the way the smell of his body and the heat that seemed to roil off his skin wanted to make her fold backwards into his chest.

"Personally," he said, his voice strangely icy. "I'd prefer you in gray, or perhaps a warm pink, it brings out the color in your cheeks."

"Then why did you…" she began to ask.

"I didn't, actually," he retorted, cutting her short, inwardly he added, _although I certainly would have if I could afford it._

"Then who, Howl?" Sophie asked bewildered, putting the dress down and replacing the cover of the box, as if the contents suddenly offended her.

"Oh dear Sophie, there is a very rich man indebted to you. A man who in fact, owes his life to you, and who, in fact, claims that you've done nothing short of _stealing his heart away."_

"Prince Justin!" Sophie gasped, realization catching up to her like a rude slap to the face. "Prince Justin? This is all from him?"

"Not just this, he supplied us with our meal this evening, and with many other useful items, including this."

Howl grabbed Sophie's hand and turned it up, depositing in it a small but heavy bag, containing a fortune in platinum coins. Sophie did not know what to think. Even more troubling than the Prince's largesse was Howl's blase attitude toward it all. Perhaps he really didn't care about her after all, perhaps the ease with which he was presenting this all to her was his way of acting on the Prince's behalf, as a liaison for him, a matchmaker even.

Suddenly Sophie felt very, very sick, and quite overwhelmed, she wished that Howl had not told her about this, that they had remained sitting in front of Calcifer, in amiable silence.

Howl was trying his best to keep his opinions out of this situation. He had of course contemplated burning the dresses, the hats, the shoes, throwing the money down a deep dark well and taking only those essential things which Sophie would have expected him to bring back with him from his trip.

When the Wizard Solomon had handed him the compression bag, she had told him that the bag itself was a gift from her, and the contents were a gift from the Prince, to Sophie. And then Solomon had told him, in her infinitely wise and sly way that this compression bag could be made to fit many other items, enough items for him to begin rebuilding his domicile once again. But of course, she had told him, the Prince's gifts aught to be removed first.

It was a thinly veiled excuse for him to snoop about, an excuse he didn't need. If Howl was up against the Prince to win Sophie's favor he would grab any advantage he got. And so Howl had inspected the contents of Turnip Head's gift, dismayed by the richness of the array. However, Howl had stopped short of reading the letter that the Prince had sealed within, he was not quite a villain as all that, or so he had told himself.

Now that he looked at Sophie's wondering face he frankly wished that he had torn the note up and thrown everything into a roiling river. But the Prince was a powerful man, and although Sophie had refused him once before, it was apparent that he would not stop his meddling just yet. Howl wanted so much to chase after the Prince and turn him into yet another garden vegetable when he had learned that _he,_ Howl, was meant to convey the gifts.

The nerve, to have him deliver this package to Sophie, the very woman that he himself…that he…the sentence stuck in his head, without an end to it…never mind…he would be fair, well as fair as he could manage. Sophie would get a chance to decide her own heart, even if it felt like he'd been knifed in his, through the back at that. He retrieved the letter from the pocket of his coat and waved it in front of Sophie's stunned visage.

"What's that?" she murmured, returning from the melee of her inner thoughts.

"A love letter, probably," he teased, his own light hearted tone echoing nastily in his head. "From your boyfriend, would you like me to read it to you?"

He was pleased to see her scowl at the "boyfriend" bit, although perhaps she reacted so negatively simply because he was baiting her.

"Howl, don't be so immature, give that to me," she said as he held the letter high over her head.

"I'm not going to jump for it," she said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. He looked down at her bright, angry face, he knew he was alive when he saw those eyes flashing at him. His smile deepened.

"You don't want to know what old Turnip Head has to say?"

"He's a prince you know, you aught not to call him that, and yes I am interested," she replied. "But I'm not about to beg you for it."

"Then I guess you'll just never know," he said. Sophie watched as he held the letter by its edges before dramatically twitching his wrist, the letter disappeared into thin air and he held out his hands to her, shaking out his sleeves, like the street magician in Market Chipping, as if to say, "not up this one, either."

"Look if you're so keen on keeping it to yourself you can go ahead and read it! You can give me the summary!" she huffed, exasperated by his sudden reversion to a pre-adolescent state.

He smiled at her triumphantly, as if he had just won some sort of battle that she didn't even know they were fighting. Howl lifted up his hand and reached theatrically for her ear, brushing her earlobe with his fingertips before pulling the letter out of thin air next to her face. Before she could stop herself she found her hand straying toward her ear, like her hand had as a child, when the street magician and retrieved a coin from it.

Howl chuckled at her gesture, and tore open the letter, leaning on the porch railing as she sat on a crate of Gods knew what, courtesy of an infatuated monarch. She watched in the lantern light as Howl mouthed the words of the Prince's missive.

"Well, read it out loud," she scolded him.

"Oh yes, of course," he said. "Ah, where was I…Dearest Sophie…your lips are like twin barriers holding back paradise, broad and tender, if I could draw upon their sweetness with my own, your eyes--deep and warm, like the richest earth, your hair, as silvery bright as frost and starlight, your…oh _dear_, Sophie" Howl gave her a conspiratorial wink before continuing. "…your _breast_ is…"

"Howl!" Sophie cried, springing up from the crate, her cheeks aglow. She snatched the letter from him and looked at it. It was only a few short sentences long. It read:

Dearest Miss Hatter,

Do forgive the impertinence of these gifts. It is only that, as well I know, you were recently robbed of everything that you owned in that disastrous escape. Please accept these small offerings as a token of my gratitude, with the hope that they will help to see you back on your feet.

I wish also to extend to you an invitation to Kingsbury, where I may entertain you and your party in style as I endeavor to fulfill my debt to you personally.

Your Servant,

Justin

"Howl!" she gasped, as he began to laugh. "He didn't say anything at all about my…my…_eyes_…Gods you are an insufferable, wicked man!"

Sophie had nearly died hearing those words coming from Howl's mouth. It had been exquisite and painful at the same time, and the nerve of the Prince to write such things about her! And now she found that Howl was only playing her.

If anything gaining his heart had only made him more nasty, she thought. All day he had harried her, and she him in return. Perhaps his heart told him to send her away after all, to pester her until she left.

Howl leaned against the railing of the porch next to her, together they gazed out into the moonlit expanse of shining grass.

"Will you go to him?" Howl asked finally, his chest felt suddenly tight, he knew he could not exhale until she answered.

"I don't know," she said. Honestly Sophie wasn't sure what any of this meant. She was sick of being stuck in the mountains, of that she was certain.

"Why? Do you think I should?" She asked, praying silently that he would tell her an emphatic _no._ Tell her that he loved her, or that he at least didn't mind seeing her face around the place everyday. Oh please, anything, anything, the smallest sign that he might want to keep her here with him, or there with him, or anywhere, as long as their little family could be together.

Howl considered for a moment, knowing what he would like to say, what the newly regained, throbbing voice inside his body was crying for him to tell her, Princes and Empires be damned. At the same time he had to admit that he was incredibly frightened, for the first time in a long time he had a heart to be broken, and what was perhaps even worse than the thought that it should break, was the possibility that she would say yes. Could he take care of her? Could he keep her? Would she grow bored with him? In the end he settled on his usual defense, coyness.

"He could certainly take care of you, 'in style,' as he said." _Much better than I ever could._

Sophie sighed heavily, so that was it, was it?

"You certainly set a lot of stock in style, don't you, Howl? Fine, if that's what you think, I will go, then."

Howl felt suddenly bereft, what had he done? He thought that he was giving her space, but was he pushing her away, instead? Sophie stood up and turned toward the door, he was about to stop her, to grab her and plead with her to stay, when she turned again, her eyes gleamed wetly at the corners.

"Howl?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he responded, his heart seemed to falter, to lurch forward in his chest as he looked at her.

"Howl, will you…come with me?" she asked finally, not looking him in the eye.

"Yes," he responded, smiling. Perhaps he hadn't fouled things up completely just yet.

"Yes Sophie, I would be honored to escort you to Kingsbury."


	3. Chapter 3

It looked absurd, standing up in the middle of the field, opening up into nothing on either side. But here it was, the first part of what Howl promised would be the new castle, a door. Sophie thought it was just like him to make the exit first. That was quite alright however, for the door would allow them to get to Kingsbury together, as Howl had already reinstated the opening at the disused stable on Duke Street before he returned.

Sophie, Marcl and Dubbie were currently standing on the "inside" of the door, watching Howl paint the numbers round the new dial on the molding. She had already watched him do this to the cottage door that very morning. She had asked him why they couldn't just leave through the cottage door to Kingsbury, but he had responded that you need a "real" door, a sort of "home" door to do it, and he didn't want to use the cottage for that purpose.

Calcifer was coming with as well, Marcl currently held a bucket with the fire demon inside, packed with hot coals and ash. Inside Sophie could here him grumbling about the move. However, Calcifer had refused to fly on his own to Kingsbury, and so had resigned himself to this mode of contrivance.

"There, that should do it," Howl said as he retrieved a bit of chalk from his pocket. He then drew a complicated ruin on the surface of the door and placed his hand in the center of it. The lines on the door seemed to glow red for a moment and the air shimmered around Howl. He then stepped back.

"Everyone all packed?" he asked, turning to them, she nodded, as his eyes flickered over her. He smiled and opened the door with a flourish. It was perhaps one of the strangest things she had ever seen! On either side of the door, mountains and rolling valley could be seen, but when you looked through the door, you saw a shady street lined with cobblestones and the gray boards and red brick of the warehouse across the street.

"I think I'm going to be sick looking at that," Sophie muttered.

Howl just laughed at her as Marcl ushered Dubbie through the door. Howl grabbed up his bag and offered his free arm to Sophie. She accepted it gratefully, as doing so allowed her to shut her eyes tightly so that she couldn't see the strange mismatched scenery that she was stepping into. Howl watched the way she screwed up her face as she shut her eyes tightly. Never mind that she had once flown an aero-plane back from Kingsbury to moor outside of Market Chipping, somehow Sophie just couldn't countenance certain things. He found her inconsistency mystifying and charming at the same time. Howl guided her through the doorway, and onto the cobbled streets beyond, closing the door firmly behind them and locking it.

Sophie opened her eyes to find herself transported to the capitol city of Kingsbury on a hot, muggy summer day. Already she could feel the sweat begin to collect on her forehead.

"I forgot how cool it is up in the mountains!" she exclaimed.

Instead of responding to her comment, Howl hissed something under his breath. A single word, "_Spy_."

Sophie looked around curiously, trying to discern what on earth he could be talking about, when she heard a strange wheezing sound coming from the ground. She looked down to find a small blond mutt, waging its rump and snuffling at her.

"Heen!" she cried, dropping Howls arm and her suitcase as she bent down to hug the odd looking little animal.

The sound of an engine drew their attention to a gleaming car bearing the King's coat of arms.

_Turnip Head is certainly not holding back_, Howl thought as the vehicle stopped. The driver exited and bowed low to them in one fluid motion, before announcing that their company was desired at court and that he was there to escort them. Sophie nodded to the man, unsure of what to say, and he quickly began stowing their luggage in the trunk of the vehicle.

The inside of the car was even finer than the outside. The seats were upholstered in velvet and the walls were made of oak paneling, inlayed with elaborate designs. Dubbie was beaming, stroking the velvet of the seat with care, muttering a litany of praises for it. The well-appointed nature of the vehicle did nothing to improve the heat, however. It was sweltering inside the cab, especially packed as it was with four of them, plus Heen and Calcifer, who was still silently smoking in his bucket.

Perhaps it was the effect of Calcifer's exhaust and the rising heat, but Sophie suddenly felt exceptionally faint. All of this was a dream, it was too much for her. What did the Prince really want with her? What did he expect? What would she say to him? She was terrified! She found herself thinking that she much preferred the Prince as a puffed up vegetable on a stick to his present fleshy and infinitely more intimidating form.

Sophie sighed, why were things so much harder now that she was young? When she was old she had been fearless, after all, what had she to lose? The first time she journeyed to the palace she had everything to gain, and nothing that anybody wanted from her, at least personally. She feared what might be wanted from her now. Was the Prince really foolish enough to think that he loved her? What a joke! She would have to set him right, that was all there was to it.

As the car turned down the wide avenue toward the palace, Sophie sank further into her seat as she watched people stop and look at the car as they passed, a few men even tipped their hats to the vehicle, assuming undoubtedly that there must be some noble or dignitary within. Marcl was nearly falling out of the window on his side, exclaiming at the grandness of the avenue and the people. It was his first time going to the Palace at Kingsbury.

Sophie looked to Howl, and found that his eyes were fixed on her, unblinking, glittering in the shadows of the car. Sophie started at his look, she had not realized that he had been staring at her, it was quite unsettling. She looked away from him quickly, her fluttering gaze seemed to wake him from his reverie. Smiling, he leaned forward toward her and whispered,

"Cheer up, little mouse. This is your day of glory."

"I should hope not," she responded sullenly. "I'll have nothing to look forward to later on. Besides, I simply can't stand glory, especially if it's pinned on me."

"I guess we're sort of the same that way, aren't we?" he said, sighing.

"Howl, what are you talking about? You love to be seen…" she chided, a smile twisting the lines of her mouth for the first time since they had started their journey.

"Well, I'll admit in certain respects…I am not shy," he grinned up at her as he smoothed the creases from his trousers. "However," he continued. "It's competence that I'm talking about…While I was studying under Solomon, I tried my very best at mediocrity. Your life can be so much…_freer_ when people don't expect too much from you."

_How very typical_, Sophie thought to herself, although her smile stayed just the same. The vehicle had reached the end of the avenue. The palace loomed in front of them, its beige colored stone dazzling in the afternoon haze. Instead of continuing on into the courtyard to deposit them at the grand staircase, the car turned left and continued along the road that encircled the palace. Howl noticed Sophie's confusion over this development.

"We're on the good list, Sophie dear," Howl explained to her, his smile somehow mirthless. "You can tell because we are not forced to walk those horrible stairs like a common petitioner."

"That's rather low," Sophie said. "Make people come to you sweating like a dog only to grovel at your feet? Bet it softens people up very nicely."

"It is nasty isn't it? Although very effective," Howl nodded, indicating Dubbie whose snores could be heard issuing from the corner of the coach.

"Poor Dubbie," Sophie sighed.

"Poor Dubbie!" Howl exclaimed. "I'll remind you that she would have been the death of me, or rather, quite worse than the death of me…"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't have let her get you," Sophie said in an offhanded way, as if it were absurd for him to think that he was ever in danger. His heart seemed to shiver as he looked at her. He fingered the material that covered his torso, he wasn't quite used to the feelings the reclaimed organ produced. It was a bit like learning to see in color again. Sometimes when he looked at her, he had to squint or risk being dazzled.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of a rather unassuming entrance at the back of the building. The crew disembarked and were quickly ushered into the palace. Sophie tried to stop herself from gawking at the grandness that the opened doors revealed. They stood in a hall thirty yards long containing a fountain, on the ceiling skylights let in fresh air and lit the black and white flagstones on the floor.

The air inside the hall was much cooler than the sweltering afternoon haze that permeated the outdoors. Sophie wondered how they could keep it so cool. She wondered if it was magic, or perhaps the sun simply didn't have the mustard to heat such a huge building, and had just given up and settled on blinding those inside with its glamour. Either way it was a relief.

"Back door guests are the best, aren't they?" a saccharine voice rang out from the shadows of the foyer. A tall, gaunt, middle-aged man with smile lines around his eyes came forth from the shadows and bowed to them. Sophie managed a curtsy before he began talking.

"Please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Jeremy and I am one of his Highness the Prince's stewards. Miss Hatter, Wizard Howl, the Witch of the Waste, little Marcl, and oh yes, Heen I see. What a…."

A tinny voice reverberated from the bucket Marcl held, interrupting a list of names recited no doubt to impress.

"What am I, burnt liver?" Calcifer chimed in, sparking over the rim of his confine.

"Good Heavens, child. What are you keeping in their?"

Like a normal boy who brought home a toad after a rainy day, Marcl flushed guiltily under the man's scrutiny.

"It's a fire demon, Sir. Name is Calcifer."

"My, what a motley bunch!" Jeremy exclaimed smiling at all of them, although a look at his eyes would tell you that he did not seem at all pleased with Marcl's pet. "Where was I? Oh yes. Please follow me, I shall show you your apartments. The Prince does not expect to see you until evening, and so I invite you to relax in the meantime."

Their crew ascended the stairs as their luggage was carried up in an gilded cart which Jeremy referred to as the "elevator." Sophie stole a glance over at Howl as they climbed the stairs. On the surface he seemed, as always, calm and care-free, yet Sophie knew it had been quite a risk for him to come here. Although Sophie's rescue had put him, by association, into the good graces of the Prince and King, he was nonetheless in default of his contract with the crown.

He had refused to fight when he was summoned, thus he was a traitor. Sophie knew his reasons for not going to war, and she fully supported him. Although one might accuse Howl of simply wiggling out of another responsibility, in this case she had seen the…the... _things_ that wizards who obeyed the call became and what they did. She had been attacked by them, and the memory of that had furnished the scene of many nightmares.

The thought of Howl becoming a thoughtless pawn like that made her blood quicken in anger. That was a large mark against Prince Justin, he relied on a system that required the subjugation of men in such a vile manor. Sophie could not forgive it. If she got the chance she would certainly tell the Prince that she thought so, no matter how intimidating he might be.

They arrived at their suite. It was gorgeous, perfectly so, in an irritating way that made Sophie feel all the more awkward and small. Howl of course looked entirely at home here, and in fact seemed to be making a point of acting so. The suite had two bedrooms, a bath, and a common room with a large ornate fireplace that Calcifer could make himself at home in. Howl was lounging on the settee, his shiny black boots resting on the arm, when Jeremy had finished giving her a small tour of the rooms. Jeremy looked at Howl with thinly veiled disdain, before opening his mouth and dropping a bomb squarely on Sophie's head.

"If you please, I shall escort you to your apartments," Jeremy said politely, clearly addressing Marcl, Howl and Dubbie.

"Excuse me?" Sophie blurted out. She could not help herself. She couldn't be left here all alone, she would go mad. Sophie had been sure that they were to share these rooms together.

Jeremy turned and looked at her, perplexed. Before he could respond Howl leapt from the couch and took Sophie's hand.

"You will take care of Calcifer won't you?" he smiled down at her. "He gets upset when you're not around to tend to him, and you do it so much better than I."

"Of course, I would be happy to, I just thought that we…"

"Don't worry. You'll be fine, I'm sure Marcl and I won't be far away."

"But what about Dubbie?"

"Tell Jeremy that you'd like her to stay with you."

"Jeremy," Sophie asked, not used to ordering others around her voice was unusually high. "I would like Dubbie to stay with me, if that's alright."

To her relief Jeremy acquiesced.

"Of course, Madam. It is understandable that you would like to keep her near you."

"And would you have someone bring up some extra logs for Calcifer, he needs lots of feeding after he's been moved around."

"Make that pine, and bring up some egg shells too, _and _some bacon grease!" Calcifer demanded from his new post in the marble fireplace.

If Jeremy was upset about being ordered around by the fire, he didn't show it. He bowed deeply to Sophie and Dubbie and took his leave with Howl and Marcl in tow. Before he exited, Howl turned to give Sophie a quick wink as he sauntered away.

"Oh my," Dubbie said from her from the her seat on the sofa. "What a fantastic suite this is Sophie."

"Yes, Dubbie I suppose it is very lovely, but they were going to split us all up."

"I imagine they would!" Dubbie chuckled.

"What do you mean? There's enough room for all of us, more than we've had for the past week."

The old woman shook her head, her jowls quivering slightly in sympathy.

"I don't think they care where _this _old woman is," Dubbie said. "It's Howl that the Prince wants to keep in place."

"Howl? But why? Dubbie, you don't think they're going to try to arrest him, do you? Is that why I am here, to give them the chance to get at him?"

"No, Sophie, no, no. For such a sharp girl, you can be quite naive," she said as she folded her wizened hands over her ample belly.

"Then why, Dubbie?" Sophie cried in exasperation, irritated by the witch's smugness.

The old woman just shook her head and settled down for another nap. Sophie, now feeling more cross than terrified by her current position, huffed and stomped away to the bedroom that she was supposed to sleep in. She settled down on the mattress without even taking off her shoes.

She was too angry with the world to even remark on the delicateness of the satin covers, the softness of the down mattress, or the graceful lines of the peach colored silk valance that cascaded from the canopy over the bed. Instead all she could think of was the distressing orange color that covered the walls and how it seemed to be giving her a headache. Sophie listened to the sound of the door creaking open and she felt the gentle pressure of something jump onto the bed. She turned over to see Heen lying next to her, his great drooping eyes gazing at her sympathetically.

"Heen, what have I gotten myself into?"

She pet him until she noticed his eyes fix on a spot over her shoulder. His tail began to wag. Sophie looked over her shoulder to see Howl stooped, peering at her from the window sill poised to knock on the glass. Immediately Sophie jumped up from the bed and bound over to the window, opening it wide to admit the man.

"Howl? What are you doing here? And why on earth did you not use the door like a normal person?"

"Shhh…" he said holding a finger to a perfectly shaped lip.

Howl began to search the room, he opened the wardrobe, inspected the molding and the curtains, as if hoping to find something there.

"_Howl,"_ Sophie hissed at him, wanting him to explain his strange behavior.

When the man seemed satisfied the bedroom was empty of whatever he thought might be in there, Howl turned back to her and approached where she sat on the bed. He leaned down next to her and whispered in her ear, provoking a spray of goose-bumps to sprout all over her neck. She prayed he would not notice them.

"Miss Hatter, may I have a look at your luggage?"

"Why, Howl? Do you think they've put something in it?"

"It's a possibility, I just want to make certain," he responded.

"But why would Prince Justin do that?"

"If someone did, I doubt it was Turnip Head, Sophie. In fact there are several people who would rather I…well, anyway. Details are not important. It's better to be safe than dead, right?"

_"Dead?" _Sophie hissed, alarmed.

"Yes, or bewitched," he muttered absently before turning to catch the horror in her expression.

"I'm just joking!" he laughed. "Or am I? Anyway, better to be sure."

He retrieved her luggage from the common room where the porter had left it and made as if he were putting it away for her, which was sheer embarrassment for Sophie. He carefully sniffed all of her bottles of lotion, and shampoo. He then took her folded clothing and neatly deposited it in the dresser, and then hung her three dresses in the wardrobe.

"Howl is this really necessary?" she whined as he reached the bottom of her bag, where she knew her underwear, stockings and other more personal items were kept.

"Of course!" he said to her. "And educational too. What do you do with these things?" He asked, dangling her garter in front of her.

"You know damn well what those are for! You have more pairs than I do! And one in lilac, I might add!"

Howl threw up his hands in exasperation.

"You're right, you're right, it's true. But tights were all the rage in men's fashion a few years back, let me tell you."

Finally he reached the very bottom, where Sophie knew she had deposited her book. A copy of a book of poems, romantic poems in fact, about dragons, wizards, fairy maidens and other exciting and frivolous things. She had found it on Howl's bookshelf in her older days.

As it was one of the few books that did not involve formulas for magical potions, she had read it eagerly. She marked her page with a black feather that she had once fancied was Howl's, but was probably a discarded raven's feather, as Howl's feathers disintegrated quickly after he transformed back to human form. Sophie had kept it because it reminded her of him, and had sometimes sat and held it when he was away for days on end.

To her horror, Howl flipped through the pages of the book as well, seeking to find some evil rune inconspicuously hidden between the pages. The traitorous feather flittered out of the book and floated to the floor. Instead of just ignoring it, like perhaps a polite person might, Howl picked it up and turned toward her.

"What's this?" he asked, his bright eyes shinning at her, his expression unreadable.

"A bookmark, what does it look like?" Sophie responded, blushing.

"An old crow's feather," he said, carefully tucking it back between the pages that it had escaped from.

"Are you quite done?" she asked.

"No, I still haven't checked _you_ over yet…" he said, his eyes glittering impishly.

"Oh Howl! What are you talking about? I don't think anyone has bewitched me or set some spell on me yet. You're being paranoid."

"Yes, unless perhaps you are a carrot, who has been charmed into thinking it is Sophie! and the real Sophie has been brainwashed and kidnapped."

"You're ridiculous!" she cried.

"Nonsense, happened to my uncle once. They found him, feet up in the garden, trying to photosynthesize. The carrot was never quite the same either, let me tell you."

"Really Howl..." she scolded as she scooted backwards on the bed, away from Howl who was now advancing on her, with an exquisitely wicked expression fixed to his features.

"Hold still Carrot," he sang as he came closer. "I can't say it won't be painless, but I must know if you are in fact some sort of ambulatory taproot."

"And how will you know if I'm a vegetable? What are you going to do, check between my toes for roots?" Sophie laughed nervously, aware of the way her breath hitched in her chest and her heart quickened as he looked at her. She felt the padded headboard behind her and knew that she was trapped.

"Hex marks Sophie, that's the thing," he responded. "It's essential to check the skin for them. But let's not start with the toes, I was thinking I would begin with these first..."

He kneeled on the bed in front of her and snatched up her hand, splaying her fingers and making a show of checking between them.

"Nothing there," he said, smiling at her through his lashes. "Next I think…underneath your braids," she snorted as he grabbed them up, flipping them over to see beneath.

"Ah, still nothing," he said, taking the time to stroke the silver hair between his finger tips. "How about behind your ears?"

Sophie shivered as he leaned forward, turning her head to each side as he searched behind them.

"Nothing there, Sophie dear," he whispered in her ear, his usual mocking intonation had drained away, replaced by a lower timbre, one that suggested things her body was only beginning to imagine.

"And your lips Sophie dear, how about them? Have they been tampered with?"

Sophie became aware that her eyes were tightly shut, she could hear Heen at the foot of the bed growling and she wished he would just shut up. She could feel Howl's thumb stroking her left cheek and the pressure of his weight shift the mattress as he leaned into her. She could feel his breath on her lips and she was hoping this moment would last forever when a resounding knock could be heard at the door, shattering the moment.

"Oh no!" Sophie cried, panic flowing into her already dilated veins. Her eyes snapped open. She looked into Howl's face, the barest fraction away from hers and found herself both elated and completely terrified.

"The Prince, Howl," she found herself stammering. "It's late. I had no idea!"

Howl slumped towards her, his hands on either side of her on the headboard, his forehead pressed against the cool surface of the wall just above her head.

"I'm sorry, Sophie," he said, his voice utterly serious. "I…shouldn't be this way, with you…" _I aught to be taking more time, so I don't scare off both of us_, he thought to himself.

_Why not? _Sophie cried inwardly. _Why shouldn't you be this way with me, Howl? Am I really so plain? So revolting? This isn't fair. Why did I stop you? _All at once she cursed fate, doorknockers and the angry tears she could feel collecting at the corners of her eyes.

Howl got up and stood stiffly beside the bed. Sophie slid off the bed herself, attempting to smooth out her dress and the rumpled bits of her ego at the same time.

"I'll just say that we will be coming shortly, shall I?" she said to him, her voice full of ice. Howl cringed hearing it.

_Damn it. _He kicked himself inwardly. Why couldn't he be calm around her? Why did he always act like a clown when she was near? Why did he push too far and too fast? He only hoped he hadn't ruined things completely. Howl heard the swish of her dress as she exited the room. He looked round and saw Heen staring at him accusingly from the bed.

"Heeeezzze," the dog admonished him.

"Oh please. It was only going to be a kiss! Her virtue is safe with me," Howl said, as he straightened his jacket.

The dog continued to stare at him balefully, his gray eyes drooping, his look conveying a distinct impression of incredulity.

"Oh, shut up," Howl snapped waspishly as he left the room to find Sophie and the others.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie sat in the drawing room agonizing over the wrinkles in her dress, her mind in a muddle over what had just happened between her and Howl. After about twenty minutes of sitting, stewing in her own anxiety while Marcl and Howl played at some sort of game on a checkered table, the door opened, a tiny man in a smart uniform stepped in and announced,

"The Wizard Solomon to see you."

Solomon was ushered in, that is to say--wheeled, by two of the strange blond boys that served as her stewards. Sophie didn't like the boys one bit, she had a feeling that they weren't at all human, for one thing, although they smiled and spoke as a normal person might, they did not seem to blink, a suspicion she swore to confirm surreptitiously during their meeting.

Howl rose immediately to greet Solomon, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Charmed, Howl, I'm sure. I send His Highness the Prince's regards and his apologies, I'm afraid he was detained by an important meeting concerning the State," Solomon said, her weary once-lovely face surveying the room's occupants.

Sophie stood and curtseyed to her, noticing as she did that the lines on the ladies face seemed deeper than last she had seen her. Solomon nodded to her before noticing Marcl's slouching figure behind Howl.

"And this must be your apprentice Howl, Marcl I believe his name is? Here come to me, boy," Solomon beckoned smiling at Marcl.

Shyly he stepped forward for her inspection, shooting a nervous glance at Howl as he did. Howl nodded to him almost imperceptibly, as if to tell him that it was okay. Solomon took Marcl's hands and looked him up and down, before scrutinizing his eyes.

"Quite a good find, Howl. This boy has potential," she said, nodding approvingly.

"Yes, he's quite amazing. But actually, he more found me. Showed up at my doorstep, and we just sort of…grew together I guess. His parents passed away in an accident I'm afraid. Some how he's found it in his heart to tolerate me all these years," Howl smiled at Marcl, placing a hand on his head and ruffling his hair. Marcl smirked, pleased despite himself by Solomon's praise, and ducked out from under Howl's patronizing hand.

"I see you bring the Witch of the Waste with you as well," Solomon said.

Dubbie regarded Solomon slyly, nodding to her.

"Wizard Solomon, such a pleasure," the crone uttered, although her features betrayed no such warm regard.

"I trust you're getting on well," Solomon continued.

"Much better than you might suspect, I'm enjoying a new perspective on life."

"Truly? I am surprised, but nonetheless pleased to hear that," Solomon said.

Sophie was afraid for a moment that the two old women were about to square off, however, Solomon's gaze finally reached Sophie.

"And finally, Mrs. Pendragon, or should I say Miss Hatter? Quite an entourage you travel with my dear! I understand you brought that fire demon with as well."

"Yes, Calcifer is doing quite fine, thank you."

"No, Sophie, thank _you._ The King, the Prince, Howl, Calcifer--they all owe you a great debt of gratitude. With any luck you may have saved us from a war."

"Is that where his Highness is, negotiating the terms of peace?" Sophie asked, consciously suppressing the moniker "Turnip Head" as she did so.

"Perhaps, perhaps, I am personally not at liberty to say. Maybe you would like to speak with him about it tonight, after dinner? He has asked to speak with you personally, that is to say privately..."

_Privately?_ The word slid like ice down her backbone. "Privately" meant "alone." _Damn,_ she thought. Across the room Howl's line of the thought was following a similar track, with far more colorful expletives adorning his phrases. Sophie supposed it was foolish to think she would escape this trip without speaking to him privately. She would just have to be strong, and pray that he would not put her in a position to have to refuse him outright.

"Also," Solomon continued, despite the girl's obvious preoccupation. "There is to be a state ball tomorrow night, celebrating the Prince's return, it will be attended by delegations from several neighboring allies concerned with this conflict. You are to be the guest of honor, Sophie, and will be awarded the Order de la Hetcha."

"The order de la what?" Sophie asked, her eyes widening in terror.

"De la _Hetcha,"_ Solomon repeated. "A very special order reserved strictly for women who have served the crown valiantly, typically in battle."

"With all due respect, Lady Solomon," Sophie said. "I was not serving any crown when I did what I did, I was just doing what seemed sensible at the time. I hardly think I deserve such fuss."

"And yet fuss is what has been lined up for you, Miss Hatter. Howl warned me that you would shrink from such acclaim, but I'm afraid that it can not be avoided. It would be best if you simply accept it gracefully."

Sophie's head snapped over to look at Howl, who was conveniently considering the view outside the window at that moment. Her blood boiled, _the traitor! _He had said nothing to her about any award!

"Alright then, I suppose I have no choice, although I do hate all the bother."

"I suspected you would, Miss Hatter, and I do apologize," Solomon smiled at her, not unsympathetically.

"Now, I am afraid," she continued. "That I must depart. I have my own business to attend to before dinner, and so I will take my leave of you. Do make yourselves at home. That is of course," she continued, eyeing the wizard, "within reason."

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A/N

A ridiculously short chapter, I'll post more next time, I promise! I realized yesterday that there are 101 people who have this on their favorites list, and I was like oh crap, people care! How fabulous and amazing! But also horrible because I haven't been updating regularly. Thank you all so much! I'm glad you're enjoying this.

I consider all my published works "in progress." If you have any criticism, please share.

If any of you out there are fans of Naruto, I've been working on two separate Gaahina fics. Check out the oneshot at mediaminer, it's called Vanilla. Go to "Naruto" and run a search for "Vanilla." It's a big fat lemon though, so consider your selves warned…


	5. Chapter 5

This is not a new chapter! But before you throw tomatos at me, I just wanted to say that I got a wonderful message from a reader whose been waiting for three years for me to finish this story. I just wanted to say that because of them I do plan on finishing it. For the handful of you fabulous people who still care, I will begin writing publishing September 1, 2009. I've changed a lot, I think this story will too. We'll see how it develops. XOXOX -Kari 


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